


Little Intimacies

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash100 Mini Fics [55]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash100, Developing Relationship, Episode: s07e14 The Other Side, F/F, Holding Hands, POV Rosita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 09:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10383756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: Rosita is used to the darkness, but she’s not used to thequiet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ Femslash100 prompt #539: Intimacy. 
> 
> This could take place before they leave their lookout to break into the Savior's compound, but it could also be a slight canon divergence with them deciding to wait out the night and see if Negan comes back out in the daytime.

Rosita is used to the darkness, but she’s not used to the _quiet_.

She’s used to someone keeping watch, someone on their toes, someone always _awake_. But the Saviors seem to sleep like fucking babies, their gilded watch-walkers moaning softly in the wind while the compound dreams.

Rosita _hates_ them. She hates how they can close their eyes to the world.

“Too quiet?” Sasha’s voice is welcome in the dark. She’s leaning up against the warehouse wall, gun in her lap, jacket buttoned up around her chin. “It’s freaking me out.”

Rosita nods and shuffles towards the other woman so they sit side by side. “Abraham snored like a freight train,” she says, the words cautious and clumsy. She and Sasha are _together_ now, bonded in a way Rosita could’ve never predicted, but some topics are still untouched. “I can hardly sleep anymore.”

Sasha nods and swallows with a dry click. “Sometimes, when I was with Bob,” she says, “he’d hold me. Not like cuddling or anything, just a touch. Something small.” She lays her palm open on her knee, leather cloves creaking around her fingers.

Rosita lifts her hand, and before she can opt out, places it in Sasha’s, lacing their fingers together. It somehow feels more intimate than anything she’s done in years—more intimate than making love with Abraham or fucking Spencer. “Like this?” There’s a tremor in her voice.

Sasha squeezes their hands together. “Yeah,” she says, resting her head on Rosita’s shoulder. “Exactly like this.”


End file.
